


Immortals

by Sapphicnihilist



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Don't Shoot Me, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, i like happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23690335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphicnihilist/pseuds/Sapphicnihilist
Summary: Whoever said an angel couldn't fall?
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, background Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Immortals

There was something depressing about being an angel.

Nico just couldn't put his finger on it.

It couldn't be the wings, he reasoned, those were the best part. He loved zipping through the clouds, feeling the air rushing through his feathers. He loved the freedom, the weightlessness, it was the only time he almost felt like smiling.

It couldn't be the odd hours either. Sure, various other angels commented on his pale face and the shadows lurking under his eyes. But, other angels with hours like his looked just fine. Besides, even on his nights off, he couldn't sleep. In fact, he preferred the odd hours. It gave him something to do other than stare at his stained glass window and count the pieces of chipped glass.

Maybe it was the loneliness. But that line of thought didn't ring quite true either. When he'd first become an angel, the others had volunteered their company at missions and perhaps after. He'd rejected each and every offer and eventually, they'd stopped coming.

Anyways, if Nico was being honest -which he was- he much preferred his own company.

So, what was it?

As he took off to begin his work quota for the night, a final thought occurred to him.

It probably had something to do with the fact that he was an angel of death.

. . .

Today, it was a little girl: Kayla.

Her soul was easy to take; hardly took up the requisite minute. She had been too young to be bogged down by the guilt and regret common in older souls. Hadn't been on earth long enough to amass any baggage either.

He'd brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and although he'd known she couldn't see him when she'd smiled it almost felt like she could feel him.

In the end, a single touch had been all it took to snap her life-chord and she closed her eyes, as easy as falling asleep.

"Thank you," her soul whispered as it left.

He lingers at her place of death. He sees no reason not to. He had been informed she would have no visitors and besides, even if she did, they wouldn't have been able to see him.

He wanted to soak in the peacefulness of her death for a while longer (Peaceful deaths were far and in-between, but they always served to remind him that he actually didn't hate his job) so he was wholly unprepared when the curtain flies open.

He startles, wings spread defensively, ready to take off then...

"Who are you?" comes and he turns.

It's a teenager. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Tall. Attractive by human standards. His badge reads: Will.

But more importantly: He can see Nico.

Shocked as he is, he doesn't move to stop the boy when he grabs his hand, efficiently preventing him from taking off.

Ah... Nico thinks... this isn't going to end well.

***

The problem, Nico believes, is that he absolutely loves his job.  
Morbid, though it is, and depressing too -he is after all, basically a murderer- it is a part of him, as natural as breathing.  
As twisted as it seems, he was made for this, and he could never imagine himself doing anything else.

The only part of the job he could absolutely do without were the reactions of those that were left behind.

Those, he couldn't make understand that the dead had been in pain, that they had wanted to go, that they had used up their quota and it was their time.

Those who grieved, who mourned.

Those who still had the privilege of being human.

Because humans were selfish creatures. They wanted the dead to stay with them even despite their pain, just to prevent their own heartbreak and the ache of missing them.

Humans were selfish creatures.

But, as Nico watched the blue-eyed teen in front of him slowly fall apart when he saw Kayla's body, he wished he could allow them to be selfish for a while longer.

He longed for the night sky and cool comfort of the dome of heaven, far away from the glaring lights of the terminal ward in a hospital room.  
However, the boy's bruising grip on his hand annulled all chances of flight. 

He grieved openly, blue eyes welling with tears that quickly spilled over. He occasionally used his free hand to wipe away the tears while the hand holding Nico's tightened with each sob.

All chances of escape gone, Nico withdrew his wings and awkwardly pat the boy on his shoulder in a parody of comfort. He had seen humans do it to each other and had assumed it was acceptable.

He was wholly unprepared for the boy's reaction. He flew into Nico's arms, wetting his favourite black shirt with his tears.

It was weird.

He had never been touched so casually, so freely, never felt another's heartbeat so close to his own.

It unlocked a strange feeling in his stomach -like all the souls he had taken were stored in there and were throwing a corpse party- and something in his heart shifted.

It was uncomfortable.

He didn't like it and wanted it to go away.

He would have said that, but he couldn't. Instead, he found himself wanting to help the boy.

But he didn't know how.

How do humans show affection? He thought wildly. What had he seen them do?

He raised his hand to the boy's head... and rubbed it. "There, there."

The boy chuckled against his shirt and normally Nico would have been angry as he was being laughed at, but he was kind of lost in the feeling of the boy's hair between his fingertips. It was soft, like clouds or the down of baby cherubs. He barely suppressed the groan that left his lips when the boy detached his head from his comforting (!) fingertips.

Nico looked down at his upturned face still stricken with grief, and cursed himself for thinking him beautiful with eyelashes weighed down with tears. They made his eyes sparkle, like the stars that led him home after each night shift.

"Want to get out of here?" The boy asked.

Lost in his eyes, Nico murmured, "Yes, please."

***

Selfishness, Nico soon realized, was not a trait peculiar to humans alone.

As the days went on, he saw more and more of Will (after a while, he had stopped calling him the boy. It hadn't seemed right after he had had his snot on his shirt and they had gone out for drinks). When he didn't have to work, he flew in for a visit. After work, he swung by the hospital to see him off his work.

The best part was: Will was always happy to see him. It didn't matter when he popped up or what Will was doing then, his face brightened and a smile crept easily across his face.

Nobody had ever been that happy to see him before, it felt strange. Maybe he would have felt better if he didn't feel like Romeo sneaking out to see Juliet.

He was wearing his sneakers when Archangel Perseus Jackson walked in.

"Hey, Nico. A bunch of us are going out to see the shower of glory from the Most High's Chair. Want to come with?"

Nico hated Archangel Perseus, or rather he would like to think he did. The other possibility was too horrifying to contemplate. Perseus, or Percy as he liked to be called, was the Archangel of Security, Defense and the seven seas. He was also the most accomplished of the archangels, emerging victorious at every mission he undertook. Rumours had it that even the Most High had taken notice and invited him to serve at a higher capacity directly under him. Percy had declined, choosing instead to stay with his girlfriend, Archangel Annabeth Chase.

Normally, a bitter lump rose in his throat whenever he thought of Percy and his perfect girlfriend, and this time was no different. However, the lump was. It still tasted of longing but the bitter tinge of regret wasn't there, neither was the ashes of denial. It was also a lot easier to push down.

He forced down the lump and filed away the strangeness of the situation to peruse later, instead he tried to paste a pleasant smile on his face as he replied. 

He failed.

"No."

Percy sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. "Nico, you can't keep isolating yourself from everyone else."

"Why not?"

Percy sputtered, caught off-guard.

Nico continued. "I'm the angel of death, they don't want me around anyways."  
Deep down, he kinda hoped Percy would at least attempt to deny it but he just looked away. He never did.

"Where would you go?" He asked instead.

Nico smiled, a bitter twisted thing. "Who cares?"

He was late to see Will.

Not that Will gave him grief for it. He was standing outside the bar they had agreed to meet at, slightly shivering. The snow had gathered on his clothes, weighing them down, bearing testimony to just how long he had been waiting. He didn't complain, just took one look at Nico and asked, "What's wrong?"

Nico shrugged, a tight movement. "Long day."

Will looked at him long and hard, then nodded. "I know the perfect remedy." 

He pushed open the door of the bar.

And for three hours, Nico let loose. He threw down everything Will put in front of him, each little glass of poison quickly followed by the next one. He was chasing oblivion and dancing on the edges of hell, each glass bringing him closer to the fall.

And Will was right there with him, the unspoken promise of falling together anchoring him.

The night blurred together, filled with blurry images of wet lashes, blue eyes, smoky looks, lingering touches, and intimate dances.

Nico wasn't sure how or why it happened but during the course of the night, they had gradually stopped drinking, choosing instead to fall into each other instead.

Which was why, at 2 a.m the next morning, Nico had his back pressed against the wall, Will Solace's tongue halfway down his throat.

The kiss was awful.

Will's tongue was sweet, tasted like strawberry and when it withdrew left the after-taste of half-remembered dreams on sticky, sweaty afternoons.

Nico chased it back into his own mouth. His hands had found their way into Will's hair, revelling in it's softness. They tightened, yanking Will's head back, drawing a moan from him into the kiss.

Nico loved that sound, needed more of that sound. The kiss which had started out sweet and gentle, changed in it's pace and intensity. Their tongues battled for dominance; both demanding more, wanting more and taking what they wanted.

Helpless to his desires, Nico slotted his knee between Will's and when Will rocked against it in his frantic search for release, a white-hot bolt of fiery pleasure shot through him.

It felt like flying: the freedom, the release.

He slid hot, wet kisses down his jawline, Will's hands fisted desperately in his shirt. He sucked and nibbled a trail of love bites all the way down to the smooth, tanned neck, where he found Will's sweet spot.

"Fucking hell, Nico," Will breathed out helplessly, too far gone.

"Mine," Nico thought savagely. Mine. And he bit down.

Will's body tensed, arched against him and Nico covered his lips once again with his own, swallowing his broken cries of pleasure as his body shuddered against his, riding the violent wave of pleasure down.

When his body stilled again, Nico pressed his lips harshly against his, tasting blood, evidence of their passion and withdrew.

Will's eyes opened slowly, eyelashes fluttering against tanned, freckled cheeks as he blearily blinked them open. Nico watched him, committing it all to memory before those star-lit blue eyes opened, slightly dewy with tears.

Nico pressed one more kiss to the corner of his lips, looked into his eyes and... wiped his memory.

He caught him as he fell, indulging himself in the press of their bodies, spread obsidian wings and flew to the ward where they first met -he didn't know his address- and spread him on Kayla's former bed.

"Goodbye, Will," he murmured and flew away.

The days after were hell.

He'd thought it would be easy to slip back into the normal routine, but it wasn't.

His life would forever be divided into two: Before Will and After Will.

And After Will was hell.

Before Will had been hell too but now he knew how it felt to love and be loved... it was worse. 

He went out on missions but his heart wasn't in it. He slept but he woke with Will's name on his lips, the script heavy on his heart. He existed, he had only lived with Will.

Sometimes, he would get a mission at the hospital Will worked in.

He never took it.

Let another angel of death snap the chord, he refused to be the reason those blue eyes would be weighed down with tears. If he could, he would let Will be selfish for much longer.

If he could, he would give Will everything.

It's a pity he only found out what love felt like when he'd given it up. A tragedy he'd only realised he loved Will when he'd let him go.

Because he loved Will.

He loved his smile, his eyes, his hands, his lips, his taste, his scent,his words, his expressions, his feelings, his kindness, his sensitivity, his freckles, his pout, him.

He loved him so much that sometimes the force and intensity of it about killed him, almost brought him to his knees.

Now he knew why the humans wrote songs about this feeling, why they killed for it, bled for it, lived for it, died for it.

It was singularly the best and worst thing he had ever felt. It made him wish to carve out his heart and stop it hurting once and for all. It made him go to Will's hospital and stop just before he reached the door. It drove him to haunt the places they'd gone to like the ghost he was sure he had become.

The one thing he was glad for were his memories. He still had them, his only evidence that Will had existed at all.

He would have been glad to keep only these memories for the rest of eternity if need be... but the Sun Angels returned, and once again his life changed. *** The Sun Angels' return sent ripples down the dome of heaven; every angel felt it, even Nico, lost in his grief though he was.

An eternity ago -or so it seemed- they had gone to earth in self-inflicted exile. In love with humanity, they had yearned to share their gifts with them. They had donned the guise of flesh, earned the blessing of the Most High and walked the earth, spreading their angelic gifts of healing, music, and defending those in need of help.

It was a noble call they had chosen: spending 24 hours of the seven days of the week on earth with humanity. Even the archangels admired their dedication, however dearly missed they were.

But now they were back and all of heaven rejoiced.

Well... almost all of heaven.

Nico didn't care one way or the other; he wasn't a part of the angels; their goings and comings did not affect him. He did not know the Sun Angels, so he did not miss them.

But with their return came the cycle of gossip about them. And through the grapevine, trickled a single beam of light into the dark pit Nico had fallen into and he reached for it like a drowning man would for a life jacket.

It came, strangely enough, from Clarisse LaRue.

Clarisse and Nico could never be mistaken for friends. They weren't even close enough to be enemies. They were indifferent to each other, like two ships passing in the night.

In fact, he was surprised that she had noticed his existence.

But apparently, he was more noticeable than he'd thought because the one day he'd ventured outside his room, she slid into a seat beside him, looking pissed off.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked accusingly.

Nico raised an eyebrow in reply.

She huffed, looking put-out and annoyed. This didn't really make sense to Nico, seeing as he wasn't the one who sat down where he clearly wasn't invited.

"You're being even more depressed and maudlin than normal. It's scaring the cherubs."

Nico looked around. Now that he thought about it, the area around him was even more quiet than usual and he could hear the tentative cries of the tiny cherubs. He shrugged.

Clarisse sighed. "Look, if you messed up during a job, the angels can take care of it. We're all apt in the art of wiping memories, after all."

Nico laughed drily. "Yeah... but can we bring them back?"

Instead of the automatic denial he expected, Clarisse actually looked thoughtful. "Well... not usually. But... there's a rumour that... but it's just a rumour..."

"What is it?" Nico cut in sharply, cutting her off mid-ramble.

Clarisse sighed again. "It is said in some circles that the Sun Angels can return that which has been lost... including memories."

He started running.

***

Nico had had a long time to think about what he was about to do. To weigh the pros and cons on giving Will back his memory. He decided he did not give a damn.

Maybe their differences would be too much. Maybe the other angels would interfere in their unnatural relationship. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. He was done with being cautious, done with beating himself up over the love he couldn't own. He was done with sacrifice.

He knew what he wanted. He wanted Will. And this time, he was going to get Will.

But first, he had to meet Perseus Jackson.

Percy was cautious, understandably so as it was a strange request. Too bad Nico did not have time for cautious.

"Look, Percy. I have never asked you for anything before. But I am asking you for this. Help me or not, I am going to meet a Sun Angel."

Percy sighed. "I always hoped to see the day you'd ask to meet new people, but I'd never quite imagined it like this..." He looked up, sea-green eyes dead-serious for once. "Fine."

And after that, it was merely a waiting game.

***

Nico was directed to a hall and told to stay still; the angel would come to him.

After days of hell, he found it quite easy to wait for two more hours. And while he waited, for the first time in a long time, he let himself dream. He let himself actually imagine getting all he ever wanted. He let himself have Will, even if in an illusion.

"Okay, Angel Di Angelo..." he turned sharply at the voice which came from the doorway. "I have read your file and would like to ask you a few questions. Namely, what the fuck are you doing here?!"

Will Solace stood in the doorway, shaking in barely restrained fury. There were shadows under his eyes. His hair was a mess and his clothes seemed like they were put on in the dark.

It was the most beautiful thing Nico had ever seen.

"Will..." he breathed out. "Will."

"No..." Will's hand shook as he pointed it at him. "Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare. You have no right to say my name all pleading and sexily. You left me. You fucking left me. You kissed me and you left."

"I..." Nico's hand spread helplessly. "I thought you were human."

Will's eyes widened incredulously. "You thought I was human. I saw your fucking wings! What kind of human sees a boy with wings and doesn't ask any questions?"

In Hindsight, it had seemed suspicious. But Nico hadn't been thinking logically ever since he'd met Will. "I thought you were human so I wiped your memory."

Will laughed, a broken sound. Nico didn't like that sound. He wanted to gather Will into his arms and never let go.

So he did.

He stepped forward and held him. It felt so good to hold him again. He'd missed this. He'd missed him. Will's fist beat rapidly against his chest as he started to sob.

"I'm sorry," Nico murmured into his hair. "I'm an idiot."

Will continued to sob, but his fists dragged him closer. "Yes you are," he choked out. "But you're my idiot. Buy me dinner."

Nico kissed the top of his head in reply.

And they lived happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He means awful in the classic sense. Like Lucifer in Paradise Lost, "Abashed the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is." Awful, as in inspiring awe. And awe is well and good, but it is poison to love.

**Author's Note:**

> He means awful in the classic sense. Like Lucifer in Paradise Lost, "Abashed the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is." Awful, as in inspiring awe. And awe is well and good, but it is poison to love.


End file.
